It's a Process
by MyFrenzy
Summary: This isn't a story that will have you believing in clichés, and this isn't a story for the impatient. This is the untold story of the process of love. It's no walk in the park, but love never is. Klaine. AU. Will be rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue

So this is my first time writing Klaine and I must say I am quite excited!

This is a short introduction to what will be my story. I am the narrator, but it's basically Third Person Omniscient. For those of you who don't pay attention in English class, this means you will get to see the point of view of every single (important) character in this story. I might have some love affairs on the side, I might have some tragic ones there as well, I may even include some Warblers. For now, this is just Klaine.

Like I said, this is short, but it's basically giving you a gist of what it will be about. The chapters, I promise, will be longer, and I will try my best to keep my updates constant!

This one is for Summer, also known here on FF as** teenagedreamtonight**. She's my inspiration on this and my best friend. Story's all for you, love!

Reviews are loved, really, and I promise all my other Author's notes won't be as long as this one.

I don't own Glee, any of its characters, and I most certainly do not own Chris Colfer and/or Darren Criss. The things I'd do if I did.

It's all RIB.

Enjoy, lovelies.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Prologue<strong>_  
><em><strong>. <strong>_

Not a lot of people walk you through the process of falling in love.

In fact, only a few people know the true process. It's rare nowadays to hear about love at first sight and actually believe in it. It's rare to be those best childhood friends that grow to realize they have more than friendly feelings towards one another. It's hard to be one of the clichéd love stories we see in movies, hear about in fictional stories, and it's extremely hard to live such a monumental love, one that would move other people as much as it moves you.

For some, love has been ruined by every work of fiction in this world that leads us to believe that it's something much more than a simple emotion. We have grown up expecting the fireworks, expecting the sparks, expecting the monumental turn in the universe and the heart-stopping kisses, along with the stomach-fluttering hand holding. So when we fall in love and it turns out that it's not always as beautiful or mind whirling as we expected it to be, as we were falsely led into believing, it's suddenly shattering and the love that you're experiencing does not get to be experienced to the fullest, because you've given up the first few months, perhaps even the first year.

What a lot of works of fiction or a lot of screen plays don't deliver on behalf of love is that maybe you don't walk into it as quickly as you'd like. Maybe the fireworks don't exactly shoot up the sky every time you kiss within the first year of falling. Maybe it's actually a process, much like baking a cake or hunting for a house, this from a perspective of a baker and a real estate agent, respectively. If you're a musician, maybe love is like the process of writing a new song; if you're a writer, maybe love is like the process of writing a complete novel. Maybe, in the end, love really is as amazing as fictional works describe—just not as easy to go through as they do.

Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are two extremely different people, yet very similar. If you would be at the place they are now, you'd understand why one would think this.

Kurt Hummel currently walks down the streets of New York City, enveloped in multiple designer clothing, even accessories. Though he certainly cannot afford them, it does not stop him from buying them, wearing them, and working them. Working them in the figurative sense and the literal one—he has a sort of irrevocable charm to him that allows him to convince many store managers to let him pay monthly bills—like one would do for a house or an apartment—for his clothing. Kurt Hummel is a man of his word; he is never late for a payment and he never buys in vain. He will wear every item he buys and works sweat for whether it is one hundred degrees outside and he only bought a scarf yesterday or it's fifty degrees out and he bought some shorts (which is very rare, but you know). Weather doesn't apply in fashion, he always says. He also learns this, being a fashion major in NYU, and lives by the rules of fashion. Only fashion, always fashion. Fashion is his true love.

Blaine Anderson, somewhere nearby yet completely oblivious to the existence of such a marvelous creature, walks down the opposite streets of New York City in a cooler manner, his fashion sense probably not as defined as Kurt's. He's wearing jeans, and he's wearing a black t-shirt, and his hair isn't exactly the most groomed this morning. In fact, Blaine doesn't care much about his appearance. He would be what an elder would call a 'hippy' nowadays, what a male would call a 'guy', and what a female would simply grimace at. Or not, depending on their tastes. Maybe some would smirk. Either way, Blaine Anderson is easily describable, and he's less rare than, say, a Kurt Hummel. The way he thinks, acts, and talks is also different, and even his career choice is different, as he is a music major in the University of Columbia. Their music department might not be the best, but it's something, and it's Columbia, and his mother would have wanted him to be here. He's a procrastinator with some tasks but he gets things done eventually, and his way of thinking is one that not a lot of people share, which, thinking of it now, might actually make him a bit rare.

Where do the similarities strike, you ask? Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are both ambitious. They dream big. They know what they want and though they go about in different ways to obtain them, they rarely let anything get in there way. A romantic partner is far from their minds, and they're not you stereotypical gay men either. Okay, maybe Kurt is a bit, but while he does enjoy a romantic novel here and there and might tear up during Titanic (or right out bawl, whatever works best for you, reader) he does not place his focus on finding a romantic affair. Neither does Blaine, but that's easily visible and needs no explaining. Both of them are comfortable with their sexuality, and both of them are individuals. They don't need anyone, they don't want anyone, and they can function extremely well without anyone.

And they're also both our focus in this story.

They will find their way to true love in the actual process. They will not look at each other and think they will spend the rest of their lives together. It also will not be easy, and it will not be the painless process you might wish it to be from time to time. They are not best friends since infancy, they are not looking for the one, they will not hate each other, they will simply fall in love in the way almost everyone in this world does.

This isn't a story that will have you believing in clichés, this isn't a story that will be easy to read through at times, and this isn't a story for the impatient.

This is the untold story of the process of love.

It's no walk in the park, but love never is.

And both Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are about to figure this out.


	2. Chapter One

_**Chapter One**_  
><em><strong>. <strong>_

**Kurt** Hummel could be doing a lot of things with his life.

This isn't a lie, either. He is Kurt Hummel, and he knows he's better than some shabby, minimum wage job. Employers simply don't know that he will soon be one of the most important people in the fashion world. He will have many others begging to work with him. He will be the number one fashion designer in the world; he will be number one, period. He will _have_ no competition because no one will dare compete with him, and he won't be serving coffee, he will be ordering it with five or six different interns eager to earn a place at his emporium.

For now? He is the one making the coffee behind the counter.

He has to pay his clothes and bills somehow, and he figures taking on three minimum wage jobs is the way. Kurt has a schedule—he's the kind of guy that you would say is stuck in a rut, but it doesn't bother him. He has no need to be spontaneous, he has a need to buy clothes. When he has days off say, in school or at work, he usually wanders off to some expensive store and shops, shops, shops. You might think he's an addict, and here's the thing; he is.

But it never interferes with his actual schedule.

In the mornings, he works at Harry's Coffee, owned by a man named Larry, not _Harry_, but _Larry_ (this is something Kurt hasn't dared to ask about. He doesn't want to find out this is a case of Fred & George; he's not very good with pity). He then heads to his first and second class, which together take up a total of two hours of his day, then he heads to Stella's Boutique, a small shopping boutique that sells nothing too pricey like Kurt wishes it would, but it's a start, and he helps with advice to the customers. Stella has loyal customers, which means Kurt has loyal followers, which means it's his favorite job of the three. After Stella's, he goes back to NYU for his third, fourth, and last class of the day, which altogether takes up four hours of his day, then he heads off at around seven at night to work at Taco Bell, where he only works for two hours before heading to the small apartment he shares with his step brother at around nine. He does homework, research, what he needs to do, and he's heading to bed at around midnight, if he's lucky.

Yes, Kurt Hummel has his whole day planned out before he even wakes up at five in the morning. He doesn't like to relive mornings, usually because Finn Hudson, his step brother, is usually off snoring away on the couch because he fell asleep with a beer bottle in his hand and the television on. Kurt can't clean up after him when he is sleeping; he merely gives him a face of disgust and gets ready for Harry's. It doesn't take him as long as some might think, and when he shows up for work, he does so with a smile on his face.

And that's how he's showing up now, a smile planted firmly on his face and a slight dance in his step as he makes his way behind the long counter and he waves hello at the only four customers in the small coffee shop, who give him a bright smile in return. He raises the divider to be able to walk through the counter and lets it fall harshly back down, emanating a loud noise resembling the murder of a small whale. Kurt jumps and smiles apologetically at the customers before walking to the back room to find his horrific brown apron.

There he finds Rachel Berry, someone he's known since his first days here in New York City. Unlike Kurt, Rachel doesn't study—she's here because she has a dream, a dream of being on Broadway, and she's doing everything she can to fulfill it. She has auditions almost every day, but she seems to be going nowhere, as she never seems to get a part due to her lack of experience in the show business. Kurt almost feels sorry for her, but he can't let that get him down, as he is also working very hard to fulfill his dream. Maybe, he thinks, Rachel just isn't working hard enough. She's heading straight towards big, when she should be aiming lower first. Climbing to the top is a process, he always tells her, but nothing seems to get through that big, brunette head of hers.

She lives with her aunt Michelle, some rich, fat lady that offers many family members to come live with her in exchange of company. Rachel is absolutely fascinated with her aunt, but the few times Kurt has met her she smells like a mixture of dead cow and its decomposing shit. She also laughs too loud and is way too happy if you ask Kurt, which only leads him to believe she's either always drunk or always high. He'd like to believe it's the former, only because it would make her seem classier, but he's pretty positive it's the latter. Kurt doesn't approve much of her aunt Michelle, but Rachel does, and it's her problem.

She's sitting now in a small table she brought from back home and offered Larry as a piece of furniture for the 'employee lounge', which is what they call the small, shabby room space they have in the back that was originally built to be a freezer. Kurt looks back at Rachel, who doesn't seem to notice he's arrived, her eyes scanning a newspaper article. He's almost positive it's something to do with the latest Broadway shows, but he says nothing, only skips over to the table and sits on the chair across from her. He looks at the coffee sitting in front of her and shakes his head disapprovingly, reaching over and taking a long sip of it.

Rachel finally looks up when she realizes her cup of coffee magically disappeared from the view of her peripheral vision, her chocolate brown eyes meeting briefly with Kurt's. She sighs and rubs her forehead, offering him a tiny smile. "I made that myself. Is it any good?" she asks.

Kurt holds up his index finger, indicating her to wait, and Rachel raises an eyebrow as Kurt snaps his lips repeatedly and licks them afterwards. His eyes flicker upward and he hums in thought for a moment before tilting his head and nodding once. "It could be better," he teases, and Rachel laughs slightly and shakes her head.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be taking someone's coffee," she suggests playfully, both her brows now shooting upwards. Kurt scoffs and places the cup of coffee down on the table again, his eyebrows mimicking her own, and he nods towards the cup.

"It was getting cold," he explains to her, shrugging. "And lonely. You can't keep a cup of coffee lonely for too long," he tells Rachel, and Rachel chuckles.

"You're always personifying every object," she says, folding the newspaper that was previously sprawled across the table and standing. "The coffee was perfectly happy waiting to be tasted by its maker, thank you very much." She slaps Kurt lightly with the newspaper in her hands before walking over to the nearest trash can and throwing it inside. She walks out of the employee lounge and makes her way behind the counter, which was left unattended with their brief exchange of words. Kurt sighs dramatically and stands as well, following her out, throwing the disposable coffee cup in the trash can along with the newspaper.

He walks up to Rachel who is now flipping through a useless magazine and leans against the counter, his eyes scanning over the busy morning streets of New York. All the windows are made of clear glass, so it's easy to become entertained with random passerbys, some muttering quickly into their smart phone, others yelling at each other across the street, others almost being run over because they don't look both ways when crossing the God forsaken streets. In all, Kurt likes to think of the world happening outside the glass windows as his own personal soap opera, something he doesn't like to share.

"Kurt," Rachel sounds exhausted, and Kurt's head snaps back to Rachel. He raises an eyebrow and Rachel sighs, her head shaking and her eyelids almost half closed. "I _said_, did you refill the sugar jar?"

Oh. No, he hasn't done so.

"Oh, of _course_, love," he says, laughing slightly and straightening himself up, waving a carefree hand in her direction. "This place can't function without its sugar!"

Rachel eyes him suspiciously, but she nods once and looks back to her magazine. Kurt frowns, shakes his head. What is it with Rachel this morning? She's usually this loud, peppy, close-to-annoying short brunette who will talk and talk and talk and never shut up. Today, she's acting like an actual adult, he realizes, something Kurt isn't too sure he's very fond of. He grimaces and decides maybe he should go refill the sugar jar now, and he walks to the employee lounge to grab the sugar. Kurt has a feeling this will be a long day, and he doesn't like it.

Meanwhile, across the street, Blaine Anderson is that certain young man that was almost run over by a car for not looking both ways. Yes, you may think this is silly, but Blaine isn't a morning person. In fact, he's not very sure what he's doing up so early. He doesn't have a class until later on in the afternoon, and he would have been perfectly content sleeping until maybe one, but he got a call from his friend and co-worker Wes, urging him to come into the music shop to take over Jeff's shift, as he is at home with the flu and they need someone to cover for him.

They have a lot of workers in the music shop. Blaine knows they do. They could even be a musical singing group if he thinks about it, as they're all musically inclined and he's not sure how in the world everyone gets a shift. But they manage, as the music shop is one of the largest in New York City, and Wes could have called in anyone. They were scattered all around New York, the workers, he could have easily phoned someone who needed the money. But instead, the first number he found was Blaine's. Oh, the misery of having a last name starting with the first letter of the alphabet. Were it any other store manager, they wouldn't have cared to place every worker's information in alphabetical order. But this is Wes, and though he constantly denies it, Blaine knows he suffers from OCD. In fact, he is pretty positive. It's rare the time Blaine is wrong.

Or maybe he's only cocky. Either way, he's pretty sure Wes is insane.

He doesn't remember waking up this morning and his eyes are half lidded as he drags his feet to the shop. He didn't have the energy to call up a cab and even if he did, cabs aren't his favorite vehicles in the world. He'd rather take a bike, or even skates, than take a cab that has been possibly farted in by hundreds of different New Yorkers. Maybe this sounds picky, but Blaine is a picky person, so why wouldn't it sound picky? Before he knows it, his thoughts are interrupted by the playing of various instruments sounding from within the shop. Ah, he's home.

He pushes open the door and gives a loud yawn, nodding his head at various customers that are probably there for the early bird specials. It sounds like something that they would do at a restaurant and not at a music shop, but that's what they do. From six in the morning to seven in the morning everything is twenty percent off, every day. And it seems some people are so fond of discounts they'll wake up at five in the morning to arrive at six in the morning to buy instruments and accessories at a cheaper price. Because some people truly are this cheap. He almost laughs quietly to himself but holds it back as he reaches the check-out section, where Wes is chatting animatedly with a customer. How someone can be so cheerful in the morning, Blaine isn't sure, but there's no reason not to be polite, so he offers the customer a smile and she smiles brightly back at him.

"Morning," she chirps at Blaine, and Blaine waves lamely.

"Morning," he mutters in return, walking behind to counter and leaning against it beside Wes. Wes looks over at Blaine and raises an eyebrow, looking him over as he simultaneously finishes wrapping the new guitar the young lady's bought.

"Had a bad morning, Blaine?" he asks nonchalantly, and Blaine looks up at him incredulously.

"What makes you say that?" he asks, genuinely curious. Had he been unintentionally rude to the customer? Should he begin forming an apology in his mind?

"You're in slippers," Wes points out, his eyes flickering to Blaine's feet. Blaine blinks for a moment, processing the comment, before straightening up and looking down at his feet. Sure enough, staring back at him is a pair of black slippers with the image of one of the 101 Dalmatians imprinted on the front of both individuals. He tries to remember how in the world he could have forgotten to wear actual tennis shoes, but David is too busy walking by and chuckling.

"Nice foot wear, Blaine," he calls, giving the brunette a thumbs up. "It's very 2011."

Blaine rolls his eyes and sighs halfheartedly. "I'm not a morning person," he tells Wes, and Wes laughs once, his head shaking.

"Oh, I can tell," he says, handing the receipt to the customer. The lady grins at Blaine and shrugs.

"If it makes you feel any better," the blonde tells him. "My boyfriend likes to walk into stores in Star Wars underwear," she smiles ruefully, almost sheepishly, shaking her head. "It's quite sad, really," she admits, shaking her head as she struggles to pick the guitar up while reaching for the receipt. "It doesn't seem to faze him whatsoever."

Blaine laughs softly and walks out from behind the counter to help the blonde with the guitar. He gently takes it from her and easily carries it in the proper way it's supposed to be carried (she was being extremely uncaring with it, which leads him to believe the guitar's not for her, exactly) and he smiles at her. "Let me help you," he offers, though he's already taken the liberty of doing so. The blonde, though, seems grateful, and she sighs in gratitude.

"Thanks," she says, leading him out of the music shop. "I don't know anything about guitars, if you couldn't tell," she says.

"Oh, what? No, not at all," Blaine teases, and she rolls her eyes.

"Okay, so I'm not the most musically inclined," she says defensively. "Sue me."

They walk out of the music shop and into the parking lot, Blaine's 101 Dalmatian slippers in full view of New York. He figures it doesn't matter, anyway, as he did just walk all the way from his apartment to his music shop in them. Almost got run over in them as well. He figures if he's been through so much with them already, what's the harm in showing them off a bit more? He realizes he might look like a hobo or something, what with his careless fashion sense, his un-groomed hair and now the slippers, but he doesn't care. He's sure one of his co-workers has an extra pair of shoes (he's willing to put his money on Wes, the OCD freak) and he can always groom his hair later. His fashion sense, well, you either got it or you don't, right?

The blonde leads him to her car and unlocks the trunk, opening it for Blaine. He's careful as he lays it inside and clasps his hands together once it's perfectly situated in the trunk. "Beautiful!" he exclaims, grinning at the lady, and she laughs slightly, shaking her head.

"Thank you," she says. She extends her hand. "I'm Quinn," she introduces herself. "Quinn Fabray."

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine says in return, offering her a charming smile and taking her hand, shaking it firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Quinn!" he chirps. Quinn laughs and takes her hand back, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head to the side, almost in curiosity as she looks Blaine over.

"You were so tired a minute ago," she says suddenly, laughing slightly. "And now you're all—"

"Ah," Blaine holds up his hand, indicating for her to stop, and he shakes his head. "No, no, no, I was not tired, merely waking up," he says. "There's an effect finding out you're wearing your favorite slippers to work has on you that simply makes you wake up fully," he jokes. "It's a process." Quinn laughs, shakes her head, and holds both her hands up in defeat.

"Okay, okay," she agrees, nodding. "I have to get back, though," she says. "I have to hide this in my apartment before my boyfriend raids it for food, then I need to go to work before his surprise party," she rolls her eyes. "The life of a working blonde, eh?"

Blaine chuckles. "Least you're not wearing slippers," he points out. "It could always be worse."

Quinn laughs again and nods. "Right." She waves to him and walks to the driver's side of the car, opening it and sliding inside. She lowers the window and peeks out, grinning at Blaine. "It was nice meeting you," she says, waving at him once.

"You, too," Blaine says honestly, and she's suddenly speeding off into the busy streets of New York. Blaine exhales slowly and whistles on his way back inside the shop; he changes course once he's actually inside the shop, though, beginning to sing quietly to himself a random song that had been on his iPod that morning. He's singing contently for a while before he finally reaches the counter, slipping behind it once more to find Wes frowning slightly at his computer. Blaine raises an eyebrow, wondering if maybe he should ask, but if he asks he'll get an answer and that doesn't sound too inviting at the moment. So he simply walks over to the guitar pick section of the counter and begins to organize to give himself something to do, as he knows for a fact Jeff does nothing when he's actually in for work. So if he's here on behalf of Jeff, does that mean he has to do nothing as well?

"What are you doing?" Wes's voice interrupts his train of thought and he looks over at him, quirking an eyebrow. He looks back at the guitar picks for a moment, opens his mouth, closes it again, before pulling his hands back and throwing his arms up.

"I have no idea," Blaine says honestly.

Wes grimaces. "Okay, well," he says, turning his head back to the computer and sighing deeply, worriedly. Blaine suddenly feels pity for Wes, as he seems to be under a lot of stress, and is about to finally ask what the problem is when Wes is turning back to him and speaking. "Make yourself useful and go over across the street to get us some coffee, yes?"

Blaine blinks. "There's a coffee shop across the street?"

Wes's brows rise. "Yes," he says carefully. "It's been there for years. Harry's Coffee?" he says, expecting a light bulb to suddenly appear above Blaine's head. Blaine, however, seems as confused as he was a second ago, and Wes shakes his head. "You pass it every day on your way here, Blaine," he says incredulously. "It's open all day."

"I don't see the need for coffee in the afternoon," Blaine says, shrugging. "So my eyes don't find it." He reaches for the coat he always leaves in the back room, though, and shrugs it on. "I'll find it," he assures Wes, but Wes seems to have gone back to the depths of the computer, his face still showing worried lines. Blaine purses his lips and shakes his head, patting Wes's shoulder as he makes his way past him. Wes doesn't even flinch and this worries Blaine, as he's usually much more paranoid than this. It doesn't matter now, though, and as he walks across the music shop, he yells out to the workers to let him know their coffee orders.

Blaine is good with memory, so he knows all of them once out of the music shop. The cold New York City air hits him and he's rubbing his hands together, seeking warmth from the action, and he quickly makes sure to look both ways across the street before crossing over. This time, his life isn't endangered, and he reaches the sidewalk just fine. He's amused at the fact that the coffee shop is sitting right in front of him, and wonders how in the world he could have gone so many years without realizing it was there. He shrugs it off and quickly enters, sighing in relief as the warmth of the shop envelops his body. He shivers slightly and walks to the counter, nodding in greeting to the rest of the people in the shop. He waits to be attended, looks around as he does, takes in the appearance and the homey aura to the place.

"Kurt, customer," Rachel says, but Kurt is too busy trying to sneak past her with the damn sugar. He hasn't quite been able to refill the jar yet, because every time he tries to walk by Rachel seems to make another comment about the tabloids and Kurt stands there, the sugar hidden behind him, and forced smile planted on his face and sounds of approval being made when he notices she wants them. So he jumps slightly when she speaks his name as she's in the employee lounge, and he shakes his head.

"Can you take this one?" he asks her, raising an eyebrow. "I need to…" he trails off, trying to find an excuse that doesn't involve re-filling the sugar jar. His eyes land on the bathroom and he sighs. "Pee." He finishes, and Rachel blinks over at him.

"Too much information," she chuckles, but puts down her magazine and nods. "Okay, I'll take him," she says, her eyes widening as she realizes this customer is one she's lucky to be taking. He's quite beautiful, if she says so herself, and she's definitely happy Kurt handed him over to her. She clears her throat and gives herself a mental pep talk before skipping with more dance than usual over to the front of the counter.

Kurt is too preoccupied with balancing the sugar in his hands to realize Rachel is shocked at the appearance of the customer and either way, he doubts he'd care. Finally, Rachel's busy enough to let him slide past her and the customer, walking quickly to the sugar jar in the small table behind the ordering customer and he drops all the sugar he can into the jar. He sighs in relief and makes his way back behind the counter and into the employee's lounge to place the sugar back to its original state. He sighs, and makes his way out behind the counter, leaning against the wall beside the door and raising an eyebrow at Rachel and her customer.

He's handsome, he notices, but mostly notices how Rachel can tell. She's batting her eyes more so than usual and laughing a little too loudly, when he doesn't seem to be saying anything remotely funny. Kurt grimaces at her failed attempts at flirting. Oh, poor, amateur Rachel. She knows not one thing about flirting, not even reading Cosmopolitan magazine. Kurt sighs and listens as best as he can into the conversation, trying to look busy by picking at his nails, his ears perked in curiosity.

"Well, yes, that's it," Blaine sighs in relief as he finally finishes voicing the order to Rachel, and Rachel laughs loudly once more. Blaine smiles politely, almost amused. Oh, she sure doesn't realize he doesn't play for her team.

"That's a lot of coffee," she says, batting her eyelashes and, quite frankly, making Blaine a bit uncomfortable. He shifts his position and buries his hands in his coat pocket, nodding his head. He knows it's a lot of coffee—it's for his whole music shop. "Bringing any to your girlfriend?" she asks, a not-so-subtle way to find whether he has a girlfriend or not. He considers telling her for a moment one of them is for his boyfriend, but figures it's too cruel and instead shakes his head.

"Nope," he says. "All for my boys." Maybe that'll be some indication he plays for the same team, but she doesn't seem to find the term 'my boys' that astonishing. This is all uncomfortable yet hilarious to him, and he can't help but find himself the least bit entertained by the situation.

Kurt is entertained and embarrassed for Rachel. He shakes his head, curling his tongue against his cheek. The guy is _obviously_ gay. As a gay man himself, Kurt likes to believe he has the best gaydar in the history of gaydars, and everything is indicating the man is gay. Though he seems to care not for his appearance, the way he's only politely smiling at Rachel and he seems to shift uncomfortably more than once in his position and his mention of 'my boys' instead of the infamous 'the boys' has him one hundred percent convinced this man plays for his same team. He's not interested, but he has to stop Rachel before she continues to make a complete idiot of herself. Flirting with a gay man is never flattering.

As Rachel talks animatedly to the customer and prepares his order at the same time, Kurt walks past her and pinches her ass. They have a mutual understanding that every time they pinch each other's ass, it means they're on the verge of making a fool out of themselves. They have no signal to let each other know whether someone is gay or straight, but he figures the pinching will do to simmer her down. Rachel jumps and yelps, spilling the coffee she was preparing all over the counter, some of it dripping to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she shrieks, and the customer shakes his head.

"Oh, no, it's okay," Blaine assures the brunette, holding back a laugh as he watches the coffee spill onto the floor. He looks around and finds a pile of napkins nearby, and he reaches over to take some and helps her clean.

"Oh, no, you don't have to," Rachel assures him, her face flaming. Blaine shakes his head.

"It's fine," he assures her, continuing to clean. "Are you okay?" he raises an eyebrow at her, referring to her jump and yelp. Rachel's face seems to deepen in color and she nods once.

"I think a bug must have bit me," she says. "Or pinched me in the butt," she mutters under her breath, turning to glare at Kurt, and Kurt grins triumphantly at her. He gives her a small shrug and walks over to help her clean the counter, along with Blaine.

"Sorry about that!" he says cheerfully to Blaine, his eyes meeting his own. "Rachel's just such a clutz sometimes,"

Rachel's glare becomes more intense, but Kurt ignores it as he continues to clean the counter, humming a low tune under his breath. Blaine laughs slightly and shakes his head.

"Oh, no, it happens," he says, smiling at Kurt. He continues to help and they're finally done after a minute. Rachel clears her throat and takes all the used napkins in her hands, offering Blaine a small smile.

"I'll just get rid of these now," One last glare to Kurt, and she's in the employee's lounge once again. Kurt's sure she's going to stay back there to wallow in self-pity and he rolls his eyes at the thought, offering Blaine an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry about that," he says sincerely. "She's usually not like that, I promise," Blaine chuckles and shakes his head, sighing internally. How many times does he have to say it's okay? He understands the pressure in the coffee business, and he understands Rachel's sudden infatuation with him. Oh, he's sounding cocky again. But he's sounding cocky with himself, and not with anyone else. Now he's laughing at himself talking to himself and suddenly it's a whole lot of smiling from his part.

"It's seriously okay, hey," he says, holding up his hands. "Look, if you'd like, I can come by later and—"

"_Please_," Kurt interrupts, rolling his eyes. "You're here at six thirty in the morning and you want to come back later? I don't think so," he says, walking over to finish Blaine's order. "You're already here. I'll have it ready in less than two minutes," he raises an eyebrow at Blaine. "You want to time me?"

Blaine laughs. "No, no, I believe you," he says honestly. Plus, he's not very sure he's too eager to go back and work this early in the morning. "I'll wait as long as I have to."

"But it won't be long!" Kurt assures him once more, and Blaine laughs again.

"We established that!" he jokes, and Kurt chuckles as he finishes Blaine's order.

"See?" he says, as he places every cup into the paper holder. "In less than a minute, your order is ready. No quicker service in the business," he assures, and Blaine is laughing again. Kurt notices he laughs a lot for a person who doesn't seem to want to be awake. Then again, what does he know? He likes his laugh. It brings life into the coffee shop, as everyone else around them seem to be waking up barely as well.

Blaine pulls out his wallet and hands Kurt his credit card. Kurt swipes it and clicks away, Blaine watching him. "Kurt," he reads the name tag on Kurt's horrifying brown apron and he glances at him, then at his name tag. He nods, finishing up with his credit card and handing it back to him.

"That's my name," he says. "You'll hear it all around the world soon, so don't you forget it," he winks playfully at Blaine and Blaine is laughing once more.

"Oh, it's hard to forget," he says. "It's pretty unique."

"Am I going to learn yours?" Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Or am I going to have to call you Cruella De Vil?"

Blaine blinks. "Why—?"

Kurt points at Blaine's slippers, and for the second time that day, Blaine is caught off guard. He then laughs and shakes his head, rubbing his forehead sheepishly. "Oh," he says, nodding. "The slippers."

"Hey, I'm not judging," Kurt says as the receipt prints out. "It brings out the child in you."

"I'm not a morning person," Blaine says simply, and Kurt laughs. Oh, he guessed correctly. He loves being able to read people so easily and they don't even know it. Blaine raises an eyebrow, wondering why Kurt laughs, but Kurt merely shakes his head.

"I figured" is all he says, and he's handing the receipt over to Blaine. Blaine grins in gratitude and takes the holder, nodding once at Kurt.

"It was nice to meet you, Kurt," he says, walking towards the exit of the shop.

"Still didn't catch your name," Kurt reminds him, and Blaine turns over to him. Gives him a wry smile.

"Blaine," he says, and with that, he's out of the shop and making his way back to his music shop. Kurt nods once, thinks for a moment, then his eyes are suddenly trailing back to the glass window. He notices Blaine (the only man in slippers) is about to get run over again, and he almost drops all the coffee in his hands, but he's quick to save them. The driver sticks his head out and yells at him, but Blaine seems unfazed, merely continues to walk. Kurt laughs slightly.

Oh, yes. He won't forget Blaine.

* * *

><p>I appreciate all the author &amp; story alerts, along with the favorites. They made my day!<p>

But, reviews do make me update faster. I like to know any way I can improve!

This was only an introduction, and no, they aren't in love yet, loves! Be patient. You'll be introduced to more characters in the next chapter, and the chapter after that. In fact, I think this day will be dragged on for the three first chapters. Like I said in the prologue, not a story for the impatient!

Thanks to all who have read!


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